A Soul To Keep
by icybluegoddessfarie
Summary: After Sam's brush with death at six, his Dad takes to hunting once again. Years later, a learned hunter, he puts his weapons behind him and takes post as an English Teacher in his birthtown. A lot has changed, though. A Vampire AU. Sam/Dean. Not brothers
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue: The First Years**

John Winchester grew up in Kansas, in a small, useless piece of the world that would have been totally unworthy of his time had he not met Mary. She was the blond bombshell that made his life the heaven that it was for more than seventeen years. Right out of high school, only after working in the garage for two months, he bought her a ring and asked her to marry him. At nineteen years old, they married at the chapel three towns over, a large ceremony and reception that went flawlessly and a day that John remembers to this day one of the most wonderful times of his moments with Mary.

However, as close and in love as they were, they both still kept secrets from each other – secrets that broke their happy little life to pieces.

The first was the secret life that John never told Mary about, the reason that he was late to so many of his classes or why he would always excel in P.E. Yes, the Winchesters were a family of hunters, a job and lifestyle that John never really wanted to be a part of, no matter how naturally talented he seemed to be at it. Once he walked down that aisle, though, he made the decision to live in a house and work from nine to five at the local auto shop. No more monsters and hotels and long drives to nowhere for him, he thought with some satisfaction over a cold beer at the end of a long day with some of his friends.

Mary's secret was quite different; one that she would tell herself over and over again was only a strange dream. It happened one night when she was driving to their new home in Washington. The roads were wet and just beginning to freeze and a on a particularly sharp turn, the wheels slid and they crashed into the large oak on the side of the road. The right front side of the car hit too hard and too fast for John's air bag to deploy, and his head smashed into the dashboard. Mary got out of the car, disoriented and half-crazed with worry; she stumbled to the passenger side and pulled John out of the vehicle.

"John?" She tried to wake him, holding him gently in her arms. Her hand shook as she checked his pulse, his skin wet with blood from his head trauma. It was weakening, almost too soft to feel under her touch. Mary was sobbing, unable to think or do anything but hold her husband and cry.

That was when he appeared.

"Well, that's a cryin' shame, isn't it?" A voice said from right in front of her. Mary looked up, not even taking the time to question or let herself be surprised at the new addition to the horror scene.

"Can you help us?" she asked. "Is there a hospital n-near here or something?"

"Nope, you're in the middle of nowhere, little darlin'," he mocked her, smiling at her distress. "And he's already gone."

"N-no!" Mary held him tighter. "John…"

"But, if you're willing to make a trade…" The man said, once again interrupting Mary's last moments with her husband.

"Anything." She replied, not seeing sense, or danger in the situation, only wanting her mistake righted.

The man burst out laughing. "I thought you might say that. Love conquers all and all that jazz."

"What do you want?" she asked, glancing away from John for the first time since the accident.

"Don't worry about that now. It's already done," The man smiled cruelly, and Mary felt John move in her arms, inhaling a large breath.

"John?" Mary looked to him, smiling softly, tentatively, as his eyes fluttered open. He smiled back weakly, and tried to sit up.

When Mary looked up again to thank the stranger, there was nothing but the empty road in front of her, and chilly air behind her. They were alone again.

XXXXXXXXXXX

_Nine Years Later…_

The house that they had bought together had just settled down for the night, their six year old son, Sam, tucked between the covers of his Buzz Lightyear sheets. Mary had been reading in bed when she heard a noise from down the hall. Thinking it was John, coming up from watching the last of his televised baseball game, she kept reading. Minutes later, not knowing why, Mary walked down the hall to the slightly opened door of Sam's room, wondering if John had caught Sam trying to sneak around and continue playing after bedtime again.

The only light in the room was from the moon pouring in from the window facing the door, though. Mary saw John kneeling by Sam, holding one of his smaller hands in his. Mary smiled, thinking of all the times that she had stolen away by her sleeping son, thanking God for the wild little boy that had enriched their lives even from the moment she had discovered she was pregnant. She knew that John would never admit to doing it past the time Sam turned two, however, and left them at peace so as not to embarrass her husband for such a sweet act.

She was thirsty for some tea, the sweet herbal kind that their local reservation sold, grown and dried from their home gardens. Mary had often walked through the trails in their forests, learning the plants and directional skill from some of the women that lived in the reservation, and she was hoping to learn how to tend her own garden and make her own tea soon. She had never felt more at peace than she did in this small town, and she hoped that John and she would teach Sam to love it too.

As soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs, however, a wave of panic crashed through her. John was sitting back in his easy chair, napping.

"Oh my God," She breathed, turning around immediately. She bolted up the stairs and back into Sam's room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The thing that woke John was Sam's screams.

He snapped to attention, rolling out of his chair and to his feet with a speed he thought was lost to him. There was a dangerous glow coming from upstairs, flickering in the darkened room like a thing teasing him from his worst nightmares.

The house was on fire.

He ran up the stair and to the doorway to Sam's room, seeing the fire at its worst there. Flames licked the walls and ate at the furniture hungrily, and in the center of it all was his son, trapped beneath a wooden beam that collapsed from the ceiling. The smoke was suffocating him, making his eyes water and with a strength he didn't know he possessed, he heaved the beam off of his son, who had passed out from the pain. He pulled them both from the raging inferno, running to the bedroom, but still not seeing his missing wife.

He looked all over the house, cradling Sam in his arms, but she was nowhere to be found. He grabbed the phone off its base and hurriedly dialed for the hospital, a number that he had memorized from before Mary had given birth.

Later, in the emergency van, Sam woke up on his stomach, the EMTs rushing around him and administering large doses of morphine.

"Daddy…" he murmured.

"Sam," John squeezed his little hand in relief. "I'm here,"

"Dad… Mommy died." Sam said, blacking out once more.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


	2. Chapter 2: One

**Chapter One**

Sam was lying about his age.

Again.

But, really, who was going to hire a 20-year-old English teacher for high school? It wasn't as if he hadn't earned his Masters degree, either. He had just skipped a few grades due to his knack for books, learning, and over-all genius, if he did say so himself. It was only two years, really.

And in a town as tiny as Forks, Washington, who cares? The teacher he was subbing for certainly didn't. She was as thankful as everyone else at the high school. He just hoped that no one really thought about it. Or recognized his name.

That was another thing. No aliases for him, not this time. If he was going to settle down, he was going to do it properly, damnit. That meant his real name, no more guns, late night salt and burns, and no ties to the hunting community.

Even if that included lying to his father about attending a normal college…in Hawaii. That just insured that John would never look for him here, should anything go wrong. He was free to make his own decisions about the way he lived his life (however long he had left to live it), away from suspicious eyes and shady people. Or visa versa.

But, back to the lying thing. He truly was going to be as honest as possible, even if he had to lie about his age, background (for the most part,) and abilities. Yeah, honesty was his middle name.

As for his abilities… Yes, he was a psychic. A pretty powerful one, if you asked the right people. He had trained himself hard and long to control it, too, and he hoped that it would pay off here. Still, he felt like a freak coming into this small town of normal-as-can-be people.

That was, until he went to his first day of school.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He had bought a house, one story, two bedroom, two bathroom home away from the urban streets and near the edge of the forest. It had been empty for years, and had needed some serious cleaning and refurbishing. It had taken him an entire three days to fix all the problems and another two to furnish it before he could even unpack any of his belongings. Mostly, it was just his books and some odds and ends from storage, but in the end, it was the few pieces from the past and his life that made it feel like a home. All the dishes, cookery, most of the clothing, and washer, drier, dishwasher, fridge, and TV were all new, but considering the major discount he was able to secure on the house, it was a small amount to pay.

Besides, it was hardly a dent in his savings account that he had built up since he was fourteen. It kind of amazed him how much he had been able to accumulate over only six years of unsteady work and paychecks. On his sixth day in Forks, though, he was thoroughly exhausted from all the work he had had to put into the place. But sitting on the cushy couch, watching a pilot episode from a new show with the heating system running smoothly, he felt a surge of pride, and a huge pit of excitement for the coming Monday.

And, of course, that night was when he realized why the place had been abandoned for so long.

A cold chill fell over the bedroom suddenly and his bed began to shake annoyingly. And a haunting voice called out:

"_Fear me…"_

And Sam could only groan out:

"_Fuck_ me,"

Before making the decision to investigate the property's history - like he should have in the first place.

The only thing he could do then, though, was plop a pillow over his face and mentally flips the ghost (who had obviously gotten used to scaring teenagers away, with lame tactics like that) off.

So, really, the week before he started his new job was an eventful one.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam was feeling pretty good about the whole living in Forks situation as he prepared his desk for the day, looking over his empty classroom and making sure it was clean and ready for anything. He had heard the gossip starting already in the teacher's lounge as they tried to surreptitiously observe him as he made himself a cup of joe. It was almost laughable how bad they were at being subtle, and he wondered if the kids were any worse about whispering in the halls or passing notes.

Not wanting to be known as the weirdo teacher that keeps to himself, he greeted the other teachers and struck up some amiable conversation. He was a natural people person, laying on the charm thick and smooth when they asked the right questions, making a joke or changing the subject delicately when they inquired about the wrong ones. Somehow, he knew that dealing with the teenagers was going to be tremendously more difficult.

He couldn't have been more right.

The students filed in first period after the bell rang, each of them sizing him up before they found their seat. He stiffened as he felt two of the students pass, noticing the difference in them immediately. Outwardly, he made sure that nothing about him changed, his easy stance and blank smile kept just so. As they all sat and settled, he carefully came to terms with the new additions to the ever-growing supernatural tinge to the town.

Then, he felt a prodding to his mental barriers. He kept them up, looking down and away from the students as he wrote his name on the white board. Sam could deal with the new developments later, he forced himself to compartmentalize.

"My name is Mr. Winchester," He said, turning to the rest of the class, "And I'll be your English teacher for the rest of the year,"

A loud bustle and bursting conversation fell over the room as Sam allowed the students a few moments to ponder this. A hand went into the air.

"Yes?" He nodded to the girl. "Ms…?"

"Bella, sir," The brown-haired girl said, "What happened to Mrs. Michaels?"

"She wanted a vacation, I guess," Sam shrugged, thankful for the sudden silence of the room.

"Any other questions before we begin?" Sam nodded to a girl in the back.

"Like, how tall are you?" She asked as she popped her gum.

_Oh, dear God, save me now._

XXXX

Truthfully, the day didn't go as badly as Sam had dreaded. Sure, there had been a few recurring and frustrating questions from his students (mostly from the female variety) and the whole discovery that supernatural beings also happened to be high school attendees, but all in all, he found that he actually enjoyed his new job. It was a strange and sudden epiphany that kept occurring to him over the next few weeks, the feeling of accomplishment and control over his life, for the first time in years.

Everything seemed to be going well for him. His students liked him, turned in their work on time, added to the discussions (though he thought that the candy rewards probably helped with that), and the average grade for the class was at the eighty percentile level. There were three things that plagued him, though.

The first was the interaction between Bella and Edward, a human and a vampire. He had seen them together his entire time teaching and almost everywhere else he might have happened upon them. Sam was a cautious man by nature and wisdom, so while he understood that Edward would never do anything to harm Bella, he still felt that he needed to extend his protection to her – and that meant making his previous life to known to a girl he hardly knew. He was pretty adept at reading people, however, and he trusted his instincts in this matter. Bella was someone he could trust.

On a sunny day in the third week, he made his move. The second period preceded a fifteen minute break for the students before third, so he called Bella to the front after class ended.

Sam smiled and waited until the rest of the students left the room, the doors falling shut behind them. He kept his posture relaxed and unassuming, trying to convey that he was no threat to her.

"What did you need me for, Mr. W?" Bella started, tilting her head to the right. He could sense from her emotions that she was off-balance, unsure and somewhat agitated about a problem. It was the main reason that he wished to talk to her.

"I know that you haven't known me for a while, Bella," Sam said, leaning against the front of his desk, "But I wanted you to know that whatever you may need help with, I'm here for you. Even if it's just to rant or talk about anything, I can be a good friend."

Bella frowned slightly, but nodded. "That's good to know, thank you."

"Look, I'm going to be straight-forward with you." Sam sighed, steeling himself for her reaction, "I know that your boyfriend's a vampire – that his whole family is."

Bella's eyes widened, "But…How? Are you a family friend or-"

"I'm a psychic, Bella." Sam interrupted, "A human psychic. I know it might be hard to believe, but there it is. I don't care if you tell Edward and the others about this; he's already confused enough about not being able to read my mind." Sam took another deep breath and looked carefully into her eyes.

"I just needed you to know that if you ever need someone to help you or talk to about the supernatural, I'm here. I know how lonely it can be when you're surrounded by all that weirdness. It's been my whole life. I know how difficult it can be, and I needed to let you know that. My house is always open."

Bella stood staring at him for a long moment. It was pretty obvious that she didn't know how to respond to everything that she had just been told, but she didn't appear to be afraid of him, so that was a plus in his column.

Again, finally, she nodded. "I'll keep that in mind, sir."

Sam smiled wanly, saying, "Out of class, just call me Sam."

She made a sound of agreement and moved to the doorway, turning back to him before she reached for the handle.

"What kind of psychic are you?" Bella seemed genuinely curious, looking him straight in the eye.

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but then the bell for break's end rang. He grinned apologetically, "Sorry. I'll explain another time,"

Bella, still a little shell-shocked, walked out slowly, bidding him goodbye. Sam didn't know what would happen next, or how the Cullens' would react, but he hoped that he had made himself clear. A retired hunter he may be, but a self-delusional moron he would never fool himself into.

_First problem_, he mentally tallied off, _half-way solved_.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

That evening, he visited the police station. Why? Because his nightmares were getting to be ridiculous. He kept returning to the night that his mother died, seeing different and more disturbing things each night. _Really_, he thought to himself, _I'm too old to be having night terrors._

It wasn't like he repressed his memories of that night, either. He may have for a while when he was younger, but as an adult he had faced them full on, having to come to terms with everything that had happened that night, under the strict guidance of Missouri.

And what did that have to do with the local police station? Sam wanted that police report, everything that they had on his family's history, so that he could go over them in more detail and see if he had missed anything too important from his childish point of view.

That was how he came face to face with one of his father's old friends, Charlie Swan, the police chief.

"Sam? Sam Winchester?" Charlie repeated, shaking Sam's hand firmly. "I haven't seen you since you were six… How's your father? John still in the cars business?"

"Oh, yeah, can't get him away from his old Impala." Sam replied, skating the rim of the truth very finely. "Listen, I'm sorry that I haven't come by earlier, but I need a favor,"

"Anything I can do to help. I remember that fire call like it was yesterday. I'm sorry that I never got to say this to either of you before, but I'm very sorry about your loss." Charlie said, lowering his eyes momentarily with a stern expression on his usually open face.

"Thank you." Sam answered quietly. "I was… wondering if I could get the report on that old fire. I need to get some closure…" Sam rubbed the back of his neck, not looking Charlie in the eye.

"Of course, Sam. I know that you haven't been here since that night, it must have been hard to come to terms with it," Charlie nodded, pushing up from his seat and going to an old file cabinet.

Ten minutes later, Sam had the file in hand, and was rushing to get back home. He stopped, though, when he felt a faint change in the air, his senses telling him there was something amiss. He carefully looked around.

Sam knew the moment he saw _him_. It was another vampire. A police officer in the back corner office, looking over a stack of paperwork. He had blond-brown hair, chopped short and spike erratically, with pale skin and hard sculpted features. Sam had seen vampires before, over many years, and none had affected him so. His breath caught and his blood thrummed, and he found himself wanting to know _more_ about this stunning man. He read the name plate on the desk: _Dean Cullen, Assistant Chief_.

His continued assessment brought Dean's attention to him, and he berated himself for such a rookie move. Sam caught Dean's extraordinary gold-green gaze, falling under the allure of the vampire's wiles, something that hadn't happened since he turned twelve.

From that moment, even without having read Dean's character, Sam knew he was screwed.

_I'll label him problem # 4._ Sam thought, smiling at Dean somewhat dopily.

And problem # 3… Well, he never lets himself think about that one.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


	3. Chapter 3: Two

Chapter Two

Dean was a sensible, responsible man. He thought that if he worked hard enough, things in this small town would be spic and span, nothing too important to worry about. That's why he had decided to work as a police man when his family had come here three years ago, he thought he could make a difference.

But his brother seemed determined that everything in their small town be complicated and unpredictable. Case in point: the papers on his desk, reports from two towns over and some similar from Seattle, unsolved homicides and missing persons in concentrated areas. If he had to hazard a guess, based on the people who wouldn't be reported missing, he would say that there were close to a hundred plus candidates to the true investigation. He knew in his gut it was most likely vampire related, given that it was so close to their home.

It really, truly wouldn't have been such a problem had Edward bitten Bella already. Then, she could defend herself and the rest of their family. She had made the decision to be apart of them a long time ago, would do anything for them and their family had accepted her, for the most part. He didn't see why his brother had to become this teen-angst monster over the situation.

Even thinking about it made him roll his eyes. But when he shifted another paper over, he felt someone looking at him. Dean glanced up.

Across the room, in well worn jeans and a long sleeved gray T-shirt, stood a six foot something man with shaggy brown hair. He was staring right at Dean with green, gold, and blue eyes, in a fascinated manner that Dean had never seen before. He waved tentatively at Dean, smiling lightly.

That was when the scent hit him. Like warm caramel and chamomile and hot chocolate all mixed together in front of a wood fire in the middle of the coldest winter. He had to catch himself from inhaling a third time out of self preservation – whoever this stranger was, he smelt _divine_.

Dean tore his gaze away for what felt like only a second, but then when he looked back, the gorgeous man had disappeared.

_I hope he's the new one that I've been hearing about_, Dean thought, but then almost groaned aloud at the stray wish. He was in Charlie's office before he knew it, a handful of questions on his tongue.

By the time he went home for the night, he had a name: Sam Winchester.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He drove up to the house in his Impala and heard the tense voices from inside. Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes. What was wrong _this _time?

He quickly made his way to the others in the living room, and all quieted for a moment.

One look around and at the expressions on everyone's faces and he said, "Who died?"

"Hello Dean," Esme said, and indicated a spot on the couch for him to sit. "We were just talking about their new teacher at the school,"

"Is he that new man in town? Sam?" Dean asked.

"Yes, have you met him?" Alice asked, with a strange smile on her face.

"No, he was in the office today, though," Dean frowned slightly. "Why?"

Carlisle answered this time. "He knows about us."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "And you know this… how?"

"He talked to Bella about it today after class," Edward said, looking shaken and a little out of his element.

"Weren't you able to tell from his thoughts the first day you met him?" Dean wondered, and then his eyes widened when Edward shook his head. "You can't read his mind?"

"No,"

"Huh." Dean took a moment to process that. "What did he say to her?"

"Apparently… that he was available to talk any time she needed to. About anything. She said that he seemed genuinely worried for her," Alice said.

"I've never sensed that he was a bad person," Jasper added.

"Yeah, and he actually enjoys teaching. I don't think I've ever been interested in English before," Emmet's brow furrowed. "Maybe that's his evil psychic plot, to get teenagers to actually be happy to learn." He joked. Rosalie rolled her eyes and smacked his arm.

"Wait, wait, wait, he's _psychic_?" Dean repeated, incredulous. "And he just told Bella all of this." Dean blew a large breath out, shaking his head.

"What should we do?" Carlisle looked to Alice, who shook her head as well.

"His future is very foggy. I can't see anything clearly."

Dean sighed. "Are we going to have this much trouble _every_ time someone new comes to town?"

No one really had an answer to that one.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam was having a horrible, no good, very bad day. He vaguely remembers the reference to the story he had read as a child, but doesn't think about it for long. He knew he should have taken the day off, but he had already gotten dressed and ready for work before he had a chance to look at the calendar on his kitchen wall. September 21st.

The day of the fire.

He barely managed to get through his classes, assigning the very rare task of silent reading and group discussion for the duration of their hour together. Even his students seemed to recognize his bad mood, and it took him a while to realize that he was projecting his emotions slightly. Damn.

Sam drew up his proverbial walls higher than they had ever been before and tried to breathe steadily. After the final bell, he was almost the first person out of the building and hopped on the back of his bike, not even bothering to snap on the straps on his helmet before thundering off on the powerful machine.

The trees and road stretched and twisted in his vision, he couldn't have told anyone how long it had taken for him to get to the cemetery. He leaned his bike up against a tree and walked down a path to the grave sites.

Sam found Mary's grave and sat in front of it without ceremony. For a while, he could not say nor do anything but stare at the engravings on her headstone, watching the play of tree leave shadows over the words.

"Hey, Mom," Sam began, resting his arms over the helmet in his lap, his chin atop that. "I know it's been a few years, but I couldn't get away and look after dad at the same time. You know how he gets on this day." Sam thought briefly about calling his father, but the sentiment would have fallen flat on John's most likely tipsy-drunk ears.

"I just wanted to say that I love you, and that I still remember you. I would wish that things could have been different, but I know that isn't what you taught me. You have to make due with what you have, and I'm trying my hand at something new. It's been great, so far. I didn't think that it would be this easy, even with all the memories I have of you, and that night…" Sam sighed. "But, I'm alright. I'm sure they'll pass with time."

He took a while longer, sitting there and talking with her, but he stood to leave soon after. A weight that had been pressing down on the back of his mind and heart lifted slightly, and he knew that he could check another thing off that list of his, the one that keeps growing in his head.

He was on his way home on windy road when he felt it: the tingling on his skin that meant he was being watched. He had noticed it over the past week, just like the stares he was getting from the Cullen kids in his class. Sam wasn't surprised, but about half-way to his house, he pulled over to the side of the road. Taking off his helmet, he looked around for a bit before he called out:

"Hey! I know you've been watching me." No response. Not even a rustle in the leaves. "If you wanted to know something about me, all you have to do is ask!" Again, silence.

This time he smiled. "Fine. Just come in my house when you decide to man up. I'll leave the front door unlocked," Sam got back on his bike as he felt the ripple of indignant emotion well up somewhere off to his right, and he laughed full on when he speed off. At least he had their attention now.

XXXXXXXXXXX

When he got home, Officer Dean was already sitting on his couch. Sam wasn't surprised; it was a scare tactic that he had used more than once in his life, but it certainly wouldn't work on him.

"Glad to see you took my advice. Tell me, did you crawl through window or just abuse your police powers and pick the lock?" Sam asked, throwing his keys on the coffee table. He sat across from Dean on the easy chair.

"The window was open," Dean said coolly. "And to what do I owe this invitation?"

"Look, you've been following me for days, and I knew that would happen from the moment I said something to Bella. But I hate you attempting to be discreet when all you had to do was knock on my door and ask anything you wanted to know." Sam smiled fully; liking that Dean's attitude dropped a notch when he mentioned knowing about the stalker gig.

"Alright then, how did you know about us?" Dean asked straight out.

"Well, for one, I'm psychic. Two, the eyes and the skin and the overall perfect grades were another red flag," Sam said.

"Perfect grades are an indicator?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"When something supernatural wants to be seen as normal, they try too hard most of the time." Sam rolled his eyes, "And everyone around will ignore the other weird traits about them, like the no coming in on sunny days or the stand-offish attitudes." Sam huffed a laugh. "You guys are doing pretty well for the most part, but I just know what signs to look for,"

Dean nodded, "But why would you tell Bella about you?"

Sam sighed, "I could tell that she was agitated, conflicted, and, to put it bluntly, depressed. I wouldn't have said anything, but I know what it feels like to have no one to talk to." Sam looked off in the distance, remembering the time in his past as a teenager in high school, "And I know that Bella loves Edward, but sometimes it's the ones you love that are the hardest to talk to, especially when its about your fears and doubts."

Dean's eyes widened, "She's having doubts? About their relationship?"

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Look, just because I can read people's minds, doesn't mean I do. And even if I did know something about what she's feeling, I wouldn't tell you, it's her private business."

Dean backed off immediately, "I'm sorry if I offended you, but you have no idea what a big mess this could be if something went wrong and we weren't prepared for it. Life's been real crazy for us since Bella came into town," Dean smiled affectionately. Despite his role as the big bad brother, he really did have a soft spot for that girl. He shook his head, though, when he realized what he had revealed to a virtual stranger. What was going on?

"I can only imagine. A human hanging out with vampires on a regular basis must be tough for everyone." Sam smiled indulgently, trying to smooth his over-reaction out of the way.

"It's been… interesting to say the least," Dean chuckled. He had no idea why he suddenly felt so at ease with Sam, but the man really didn't seem like he was a threat to anyone.

"Any more questions for me, Officer?"Sam joked, only partially.

"Why Forks?" Dean asked after a second of deliberation.

Sam's eyes and mood dropped. _Right to the difficult questions, huh?_ He thought before answering.

"I was born here," Sam said flatly, "And I lived here until I was six,"

"What happened?" Dean asked, he could tell that it was something bad, if not from Sam's tone, then from the way he had unconsciously curled in on himself.

"See for yourself," Sam said, picking up the file from off the coffee table where he had left it and handing it to Dean.

Dean took only moments to flip through it before he paused, re-reading the last line of the report a few times. _Causalities: Mary Winchester, son Samuel Winchester in ICU for treatment._

"I… I'm sorry, Sam," Dean looked up and saw the blank expression that the brunette had adopted.

"It's alright; it was a long time ago," He said, "I just needed to face it again, my father took me and left as soon as I was well enough to."

"Couldn't handle the memories?" Dean guessed, and Sam nodded. Then Dean blinked and looked down at the file again.

"Today's the anniversary?" Dean asked, and Sam nodded again. "Do… do you want me to come back some other time?"

That got Sam to laugh and smile again, "Thanks for the consideration, but I invited you, remember?" Dean nodded and smiled tentatively.

"Uh, where did you and your dad go afterward?" Dean tried to steer the conversation to a better route.

"Everywhere," Sam said, waving a hand in a grand gesture.

"Pardon?" Dean cocked his head to the side.

"We didn't really settle down after that, not with all the hunts that were all over the country," Sam explained.

"Your dad one of those naturalists I've heard of on TV or something?" Dean asked, still confused.

Sam let out a bitter sounding laugh at that question. "No, Dean, my Dad and I aren't that kind of hunter,"

Dean motioned for him to continue, not really sure where Sam was going with this.

"I am… was, a hunter of the supernatural," Sam said, watching Dean avidly. Dean's eyes widened, and if it could of, he's sure his face would have paled.

"_What?_"


	4. Chapter 4: Three

**Chapter Three**

Dean has no idea how he got himself into this.

He is now in Sam's basement, looking around at the shelves stacked high with books and tomes full of every myth, legend, and spell imaginable.

Then, there are the weapons.

Some are hanging on the walls like decorative art, like one would display a Picasso or Mome. Others are lying carefully, orderly, on the tables, all swords and stakes and knives and daggers, guns of every variety. There's an honest-to-God bullet molder, 'to make silver bullets,' Sam informs him, as casual as if he were mentioning what he bought at the local Wal-Mart or something.

There was a metal cabinet with glass sliding doors on the right wall that housed trinkets and charms and figurines and all other manner of things that Dean had no idea what could be. Dean couldn't have been more convinced of Sam's (previous, the brunette insisted) occupation if he had tried.

Needless to say, Dean's never felt more like he was walking in a dream since he stopped needing to sleep nearly a hundred and twenty years ago. The fact that he knows he's a vampire is the only reason he hasn't pinched himself, even discreetly.

He's never been so misled about a first impression before. Looking at Sam, even talking with him for over an hour, and Dean never would have guessed about skeletons he's been hiding in the closet… Err… basement.

"So, what? You just get a call and you're off in the Mystery Machine?" Dean joked, trying to make sense of it all.

Sam's eyebrow twitched. This was as closed to pissed off as Dean had seen Sam before. Obviously, Dean had said the wrong thing.

"Look, Dean, I know that I've freaked you out, but this is a big part of my life," Sam said slowly, "I'd appreciate if you wouldn't make fun of it,"

"Sorry," Dean mumbled. "But I just don't get it. Why would you tell me this? If I'm one of the monsters you hunt, why aren't you out to kill me and my family?" Dean was perplexed to say the least.

Sam sighed, sitting on the only available surface in the room: a couch off to the side behind a long legged coffee table. "Because, not all things are black and white. Just like not all humans are good, not all supernatural beings are dangerous or evil. I figured that out a long time ago, and the psychic intuition has only helped me see it more clearly. Don't get me wrong, not a lot of hunters feel the way I do, but I'm not exactly all perfectly normal myself," Sam smiled, only somewhat self-deprecatingly.

"Is that such a bad thing?" Dean asked. That got Sam to laugh lightly, and Dean just had to smile too.

"So…" Sam spoke after a moment of quiet, "Have any big bad monsters you need to be protected from?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Somehow, life was surprisingly uneventfully after that. It had taken Dean a while to accept that Sam really wasn't planning to trap and kill them all, and was just genuinely interested in the safety of the town. Sam had even offered to help whenever he was needed, and for some reason, Dean knew that Sam could be a valuable ally.

Sam continued to teach, but instead of the glaring suspicion from the Cullen kids he had before, it was almost like they shared a private joke. Emmet had taken to him especially, and even the ice-queen Rosalie offered him a smile. Alice would talk to him sometimes about his abilities, and he would offer her what he knew about them, said that there was a real possibility of them growing all the time.

When she asked about limits, he only could tell her it was a good idea not to push unless it was a life-threatening situation. Alice nodded, like it was the answer she had been expecting. In turn, he asked her what she could see of him in his future, because he knew that he was subconsciously blocking himself from Jasper and Edward, but he didn't know if it was even possible to keep himself out of her visions.

She said yes, but only some. Apparently, he had yet to make the decisions that would really influence what happened next. He figured, hoped, that no news at this point in his life was good news. Jasper, when he walked with them one day, asked about the 21st, and Sam had said that losing control like that had never really happened before and that he thought it had something to do with the town itself. After what they had heard from Dean, they really weren't too surprised to hear that.

Another addition into his daily routine were the kids that wanted to stay after class, or even after school, to chat with him. Sometimes it would be about something funny they heard about or thought about their homework or friends, others it would be about problems or concerns they had in life. He almost wanted to put together a sign-in book and hire an assistant that would say, "Doctor Winchester will see you know,"

Then again, he probably thought about it too much…

He was even interrupted one day after school when he was grading a book discussion by the principle. After a little joking conversation the man asked if he 'ever wanted to be the school counselor instead of English teacher,'

Sam had laughed and shook his head. He was barely able to handle being around so much emotion and teenage thought in the classroom, he probably would end up seizing if he made a career out of listening to others vent out their troubles. Sam didn't mind that the kids liked him enough to be honest with him, and encouraged to talk to him if there was something on their minds, but that was the extent of it. He always made sure that they would try to tell someone else about it as well.

But somehow, through all of this, he didn't expect who came to his door on a sunny Friday afternoon while he was watching an old _Law and Order_ re-run.

"Bella?" He asked, and opened the door a little wider. "What's wrong?"

"You said if I needed to talk…?" Bella had her arms crossed, her shoulders slumped.

"Yes, of course, come in and sit," Sam gestured to the couch and turned off the TV before sitting across from her.

She sighed, "Where do I start…?"

"It probably has a lot to do with Edward, right?" Sam smiled softly, "Has something happened?"

"He…He asked me to marry him." Bella said, looking away.

"Hmm," Sam responded, seeing why this might rattle her. "And you said…?"

"That I needed time to think about it." Bella frowned, "Its not that I'm not happy with him, but it feels like I'm too young to get married right now."

"And you wanted to be changed first?" Sam guessed.

"Yes, and he said he would be the one to do it if I married him," Bella twisted her hands in front of her, "And then there's Jacob. He hates everything to do with the Cullens, but he's my best friend and it would break him to hear that I was marrying Edward because he's convinced he loves me," Bella spilled, the words tumbling fast out of her mouth.

"Jacob? He's a werewolf, right?" Bella nodded. "Well, if you don't feel the same about Jake, then you should say yes to Edward and tell Jake first hand, tell him that if he really is your friend then he will just have to accept your choice," Sam said softly. "Some people are only your friends through the easy decisions, but your real friends are there for you no matter what,"

"I guess you're right," Bella sighed, "But… how can you be okay with this?"

Sam grinned, "You mean because I'm a mean ole hunter?" Sam laughed, "The Cullens are good people, no matter what they are physically. If you want to be apart of their family permanently, if that would make you happy, who is anyone to tell you not to?"

That got a smile out of her. "And, Bella, if you truly love Edward, you should know that getting married really isn't that big of a step. It's more to reassure him that you won't be running off when things get scary,"

Bella sniffed indignantly, "There's not much that can scare me anymore. I've already met the Volturi and I know what will happen when I turn. He knows I love him, why can't that be enough?"

"It is. Sometimes, they can be more humanly imperfect in the face of emotions then we are," Sam smiled softly. Bella nodded, knowing exactly what he meant.

They talked a while longer, about lighter subjects, before Sam noticed that the twilight was upon them. Bella said that it was time for her to eat dinner with Charlie at the local diner, and Sam bid her good night and said to come back if she needed to.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alice, Edward, and Jasper weren't the only vampires Sam talked to either, or even most of the time. After he and Dean had passed the whole awkward phase of discovery, Dean was curious about all the books that Sam had horded in his basement. He would come over every few days and read through them at a rate that made Sam's head spin, and Sam told him it was alright if Dean wanted to come over at night when he was asleep, just to warn him when he would.

And then Dean would appear randomly and asked Sam questions. Had he ever seen a Siren before? What did a Kelpie look like? How were Women in White usually made?

And Sam would answer him, along with maybe a story or two of when he had faced one. They were fun conversations, laughing about mistakes made and awesome instincts and ideas that worked out. Sam, in turn, would ask about Dean's life, something that he usually wasn't comfortable with, but would talk about when he was in the mood.

It was one of those times when Sam was sitting on the couch, grading tests, and Dean was sitting at the dining table looking over another ancient book when Sam's cell rang a tune from Kansas that had always reminded him of South Dakota in the summer.

He didn't even look at the caller I.D. when he flipped his phone open and said, "Hey Bobby, what's up?"

"Hi Sam. Just callin' to see what you're up to." Bobby greeted, and then paused. "And, uh…"

"I'm not really thinking this is a social call, Bobby," Sam frowned.

"I'm sorry Sam." Bobby sighed, "You're the closest one in that area. It's in Washington."

Sam bit his lip. He knew from the moment he told Bobby where he really was, he was going to regret it. But he wanted someone he trusted to know where he was in case of emergency, and the only one viable person after his father was Bobby, and Bobby was ten times more sensible and connected than anyone else he knew. Most times, the connected aspect helped out, but now it just meant that Bobby could convince him to go on another hunt.

"You know what I said, Bobby…" Sam started.

"Son, its close enough that I would worry about sending another hunter out there to you. Do you really want that?" Bobby pressed.

Sam's jaw tightened impossibly. "That's a low blow, Bobby."

"Really, Sam, if I could think of any other way, I would, but I'm too swamped here to come and you don't want John to know you're there. You're the one who's backed himself into the corner, here," Bobby pointed out, regretfully. It wasn't like he blackmailed Sam often, or had ever done so before. Sam knew that he was speaking the truth when he said he was only thinking of what was best for Sam.

"Alright, were and what?" Sam agreed bluntly, not addressing anything else that Bobby had said.

Bobby told him and he wrote out the location, and what to study up on before leaving. He said goodbye and closed the phone, barely resisting the urge to throw it at the wall. He looked over to his guest and forced himself to calm down, wondering at the strange expression that he had never seen on Dean's face before.

"Everything alright?" Dean asked in a rough voice.

"Sure, just got a hunt to deal with. Lucky it's the weekend, don't wanna miss class," Sam tried to be jovial about it, but Dean had heard both sides of the conversation so it was sort of a moot point.

"Hmm," Dean nodded; closing the book he had been studying and turning fully to Sam. "Mind if I tag along?"

"You want to hunt? With me?" Sam forced his teeth together before his jaw could drop. He had known that Dean liked reading his books, but to have another person that was not his father helping him out on a hunt? It was a very foreign concept, even without the whole vampiric aspect.

"Yeah, never seen or even heard of half the stuff I've read about, and I want to see how you handle it," Dean said lightly, voice soft when he added, "Plus, I don't want you gettin' hurt with no one there to help you…"

Sam felt himself smile at the last part, and found himself saying, "Why not? Just make sure not to get in the way," Sam schooled his expression into a serious façade.

Dean raised an eyebrow and jibed, "Shouldn't I be saying that to you?"

And they laughed together as Sam gathered what he would need into a saddle bag.


	5. Chapter 5: Four

**Author's Note: WARNING! Smut alert.**

**Chapter Four**

Once Sam loaded up Dean's Impala, as there was no way that Dean was riding in Sam's 'bitch seat' as he called it, they were off to a town not two hours from Forks called Aberdeen. There wasn't too much in the way of scenery after they left the forests behind, nothing but buildings and ugly factories with smoke billowing out the pipes. Thirty minutes into the drive on highway 101, Dean decided to drop the silent curious wondering and just ask Sam about the phone call.

"Why didn't you want one of your hunter buddies to come out here and deal with it if you were so against hunting again?" Dean said, looking at Sam fully on a particularly long straight away.

"That's the problem right there, Dean. I don't have 'hunter buddies'." Sam replied, not even bothering to glance away from the passenger window.

"What?" Dean's eyebrows scrunched together. "I thought that this was a family business for you and your Dad, and his mother and father. Why no hunter friends?"

"My dad has hunters that he calls friends, but they generally stay away from me. Dean, to most of them, I'm just as much a monster as a banshee or shifter." Sam sighed.

"How- wait, you mean cause of your psychic abilities?" Dean growled, clenching his jaw. How could they reject one of their own like that?

"That's part of it, yes, but it's also because I don't kill every supernatural oddity I come across. I figure, if they're not hurting anyone, and they're not a ghost that needs to pass on, then they're fine. There are virtually no other hunters who share that opinion but me and Bobby. I have to do a lot of convincing to make sure even my Dad doesn't follow the same fucked up creed that other hunters do." Sam snorted. "They think that my dad should have put a bullet between my eyes as soon as he found out."

Dean gaped. He wasn't able to contain the expression at all. "Jesus…"

"And now you know why I don't really want to continue hunting any more. There's too many bad associations in it for me, not to mention if I run into one of the other hunters without my father, I'm likely to get hunted myself." Sam shook his head, "But I'd never ignore a hunt if I found one. That's just cruel and cowardly. If this one wasn't so close to me, though, I would have made Bobby send someone else,"

"I hope you like living in Forks, then," Dean said, "You know, with all the vampires and werewolves and strange people running around," He said sarcastically, but sent a smile in Sam's direction. It was a change of subject, one that Sam was entirely grateful to use.

"I wouldn't want it any other way," Sam smiled back, and actually found himself looking forward to working with Dean.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Bobby had thought that the problem was a Shtriga, which was a good educated guess in the long run, but still wrong. Oh so very wrong…

The kids that had been dying were ill because of a curse, not a life-force sucking demon. Both Sam and Dean had been sure it was a Shtriga until they broke into the security office where the surveillance tapes were kept at the hospital the night they rode into town. After pulling out the list of names and finding out what rooms the children were held, they saw that the same woman, albeit dressed as a nurse would visit each one sometime after one in the morning. The coincidence was too much, considering that some of the kids were on different floors and wards, so there was no way that the nurse was there for any legitimate reason.

Dean figured out how to zoom in and then they had a picture to go on. It was admittedly a little fuzzy, but they could see that she had grey eyes and black hair with high cheekbones and a thin mouth, enough to recognize her should they see her.

Saturday morning, they entered the hospital, acting as volunteers from some organization that Sam had researched in the area carrying teddy bears and soft rag dolls for the kids they needed to visit. After only one hour of handing the toys out and talking with the children, they spotted her. Daisy Vaughn, her name tag boasted. Sam told Dean in hushed tones in the hallway walking towards another kid's room that he should stay and keep Daisy in his sights while Sam broke into her home to get more info on the whole situation.

Dean wasn't too happy with the babysitting duty, but Sam obviously had done this before and would now what to look for. Sam had jibed him about being a cop and aiding a break-in, and Dean finally lost the pout in favor of punching Sam's shoulder.

Daisy's home was a modest one-story in the middle of a large urban development, the perfect accompaniment to her nursing job. Seeing that there were no other cars in the garage and nothing from her mail to suggest that she lived with anyone else, Sam surreptitiously broke in through the back door and texted Dean once inside.

He got a _she's still here, all clear_ moments later.

Sam didn't think he had ever seen a more military-like home even that one time when he had to visit his father's old uncle who had been in the Vietnam War. It was so sparse, no decorations to speak of, just a TV, coffee table and couch in the living room and a small two-chaired table in the kitchen. The rest of the house was no different, save for the bedside table.

There was a picture of the nurse with a child in her arms, no older than four years, with many of her same features. Both were smiling and happy in the bright sunshine afternoon at what looked like a park. Right next to that happy memory, like the ultimate contrast, was an engraved invitation to_ Elise May Vaughn's Funeral._

And there was the motive.

It took a little while longer to find the means, but in a beat-up old cardboard box in the back of her closet was a book of spells, and the same materials Sam had seen time and time again that were used to summon demons. Obviously, the woman had made a deal from Hell.

Sam winced. He hated to think just how strong the demon was that the lady was supplying power to, because as soon as he burned the book and found a way to stop the grieving witch, the bastard was going to come after him. _Just another weekend in Hunterland,_ he thought wryly to himself.

He just hoped that it didn't come to that. Everything about this hunt was so convoluted and complex, he was beginning to regret bringing Dean with him.

Sam sighed and texted Dean the address.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It had gone about as bad as could be expected, considering Sam's luck.

They had confronted Daisy about the book and her late night rendezvous with hellspawn, and she had broken down crying. She did help them burn the book, tearfully relying her sad tale about Elise and a car crash and being so angry and then scared when the demon threatened her to keep her from stopping the curses. Dean had watched Sam's stoic face through it all; wondering how many times the young hunter had heard similar stories. He obviously wasn't too impressed with the lady's action, that was for sure.

Then everything just came down on their heads, too fast even for Dean to react. He was too shocked with the turn of events to do anything but stare.

The demon that had been using Daisy for its power-up scheme seemed to come out of nowhere and possessed her. The black eyes and twisted snarl greeted them as it reached into the bottom of the box and grabbed a bag of… what looked like black dust.

"Damn little hunter…should've kept out of this," the demon said, using Daisy's feminine lilt and sounding utterly out of place coming from the small woman.

"Yeah, that's us hunters," Sam said, "Too nosy for our own good," and he pulled a gun from out of the back out his jeans.

The demon laughed at the sight of the thin-barreled Colt and threw the dust at them. Sam fired before it hit and obscured his vision, and luckily before the demon could escape. But the strange substance caught them both, and itched on contact.

"What the fuck?" Dean asked the quiet air, wiping his face off and patting his arms down. "That was real threatening…"

"We were just lucky I decided to bring the gun with me from Forks, or that would have been a lot more difficult." Sam said, looking around the room and trying to decide what to do with the body.

"You mean it doesn't normally go that smoothly?" Dean asked.

"Nope. Guns don't kill demons – you have to exorcise them if you want them gone." Sam said, tucking the Colt in his jeans again. "Now for the fun part…" Sam indicated the body.

"Yeah, I'm a shining example of the police force. Helping the psycho English teacher break into homes and bury bodies…" Dean joked, absently itching his forearm before moving to help Sam clean up the house.

"Yep, aren't you up for promotion, too?" Sam smirked.

"The things I do for your job, Sam. Don't drop her arms, now."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They were in the motel room after, a rather nice alternative to the memories of the dives Sam's father used to shack them in. The walls were a warm beige instead of some insanely ugly wallpaper and the two queen beds were made of hard cherry wood with light blue comforters. There was even a decently sized TV on a dresser across from the beds.

Dean sat at the table in a wooden chair with a book on witch lore, memorizing each detail in the pages perfectly as soon as he read them. So far, he had read a good quarter of Sam's library in the basement and he knew that there were more in storage. He was glad that there was so much to read, especially when it was all so intriguing. It gave him something to do in his free time, and considering the fact that he didn't sleep, there was a lot of it.

He looked up when the bathroom door opened, and his eyes narrowed immediately. Sam had turned his back on him to look through his duffle bag, and Dean saw the scars.

"Are those from the fire?" Dean asked, and Sam visibly tensed.

"Some of them…" Sam answered quietly, turning back to face Dean. "Others, like this one," He pointed to one low on his stomach, "Are from hunting."

Dean stared at Sam's white, but large healed scar. He closed his book, and stood in his socks, walking over to Sam. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off Sam's bare chest, his glace moving from his scars to his tanned skin, enchanting in the warm glow of the room lights. It was like his brain had shut down as he moved close enough to feel the heat from Sam's body, hear Sam's heart pounding fast as Dean moved to him, like a drumbeat calling to Dean's senses.

He reached out to touch Sam, his fingertips running down Sam's chest from collarbone to navel. Sam shivered from his cool touch, leaning into it and unconsciously closer to Dean. He stepped forward, and Dean brought his other hand to slide behind Sam's neck and pull him down. Dean stood straighter and their mouths met in the middle as Sam's hands encircled his waist, both moaning at the new contact never shared before.

Fire. Heat consumed Dean, like the hottest summer days he could remember as a teenager, melding with all his wet dreams and bursting into the headiest desire he had ever felt toward anyone as their lips parted and tongues danced together. It wasn't even Sam's blood that attracted him like this – it was just pure, unadulterated _lust_.

Sam slipped the coat off of his shoulders as Dean smoothed his hands over Sam's back and arms, marveling at the play of muscles and the aura that Sam radiated. Sam didn't even bother removing Dean's shirt, just shoving his hands underneath and pulling Dean closer to him. Neither of them could get enough, eating at each other's mouths like they were starving for it.

Dean decided that clothes were entirely unnecessary, tearing off his shirt and pants lightening-quick, before returning to the sinfully delicious lips that belonged to this amazing man that he had only met a few months ago. Sam kissed him hard, and then moved his mouth down, over his jaw, licking just under his chin before biting down on Dean's neck aggressively, a gesture that made Dean's spine tingle with growing want. While Sam continued to lave his neck with attention, Dean slipped his hands down to Sam's hips, grasping firmly, and used his strength and speed to shove Sam onto the bed, straddling his waist and capturing the hunter's lips again.

Sam's hands were all over him, his nails scratched roughly up Dean's back, making him arch further into Sam, their hips slotting together and feeling _sogoodsogood_. And all Dean wanted was more…

He ripped the towel off Sam, letting his eyes travel over his nude form appreciatively before moving in again, sucking down Sam's neck and chest, and licking over his abs. Sam parted his thighs without being prompted, and Dean's hands automatically went to hold them separated before he took Sam's cock in his mouth. Sam gasped and moaned deeply, his entire body tensing like a pulled bowstring. His one hand fisted the pillow next to his head while the other ran through Dean's hair and moved down to his neck, his fingers digging harshly into the defined muscle there.

All through it, Dean teased him to the edge and kept backing off at the last minute, leaving Sam a writhing, begging mess. Dean had a bottle of complimentary lotion prepared next to him, grabbed quickly when he had dragged Sam into the bed, and he screwed open the cap.

Somehow, with all their rushing and scrabbling at each other, Dean managed to control his urges just enough to work Sam open slowly, teasingly. Sam was about ready to scream at the prolonged denial of release when Dean reached his mouth again, sharing a heated kiss that was all tongue and teeth that sufficiently promised Sam that there was more to come.

Dean slicked himself up, moving to position between Sam's legs and holding Sam's wrists pinned with one hand before sheathing himself inside him, one long push that Sam couldn't help moaning through. Sam felt no pain, just the aching stretch and slide that made him swivel his hips up to entice Dean to move. Dean gasped, lost in the heat and potent smell of Sam that only intensified when Sam was sweating, hot, and exhilarated. Dean thrust in and out, not able to contain himself any longer, and groaning at the sensation. Then, he was completely foregone.

He pounded into Sam, hardly holding himself back at all, encouraged by the sounds that Sam made while biting his lip in attempt keep them in. He let go of Sam's wrists, grasping onto his hips, and adjusted them both so he could thrust in deeper, and the intense pleasure that flowed through Sam so suddenly made his teeth break the skin, turning his lips a dark, enticing crimson. Dean's eyes were almost black with desire as he stared at the blood before he leaned in and caught Sam's lower lip, sucking it into his mouth.

Sam, through the haze of his own lust, grabbed the small silver knife from the nightstand. When Dean pulled back from his mouth, Sam ran the razor-sharp point hard in a cut just below his collarbone, watching Dean's face as the blood welled up to the surface, stark against his skin in the low light.

Dean was still reeling from the tiny taste from Sam's lip when he saw Sam lower the knife to his skin, opening a small wound deep enough that it would bleed for a while. His eyes lost their golden color almost completely as he watched, riveted, as the blood run out and the smell over came him again. He fused his lips over the cut and sucked, holding Sam down even more firmly than before.

When Dean moved to suck at the wound, the new angle that he was thrusting hit Sam's prostate nearly every time. It made Sam grab at Dean and try to draw breath uselessly, so lost in the face of the almost painful stimulation; the pleasure was so mind-blazingly intense. He came without being touched, screaming as his whole body clenching and bucking against Dean's as Dean pulled away from his chest and buried himself inside Sam, hips thrusting shallowly as he came moments after.

They both panted harshly as Dean pulled out, falling next to Sam in bed. Sam calmed and fell to sleep almost right after Dean pulled Sam into his arms. Dean fell into a trance, basking in the afterglow for a few hours before coming to his senses.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


	6. Chapter 6: Five

**Chapter Five:**

Dean had not spoken one word to Sam on the way home. He had been dressed and ready to leave before Sam woke up, silently packing up the Impala, and waited in the driver's seat for Sam to get dressed.

Two and a half hours later, Dean pulled up to Sam's house, popped the trunk, helped Sam take his things inside, practically ran back out to the car, and sped off.

Sam had never felt more rejected. Every time he even attempted to open his mouth to explain, to tell Dean what had happened and how much of a big deal that it really was _not_, Dean had turned up the radio.

Subtle, right?

Finally, after the fourth time of trying, Sam was just frustrated enough to seethe quietly all the way home. He didn't even look at Dean when they arrived at his house.

He let Dean push the subject, and the night before, away for the time being. It still stung painfully, though, that Dean obviously didn't care enough to even try to talk about it. And worse, the look in those gold eyes…

Sam had needed a drink, (maybe several) to get through that night.

XXXXXXXXXXX

The next week went smoothly enough. His classes were flourishing, surprising him with how involved and heavy their in-class discussions were going. It reminded him of some of the college classes he had attended in person, and he tried to run the material they had to go through in as interesting a light as he could, so that everyone could see why reading was one of his greatest passions.

The classes, however, were the only good thing he had going for him. His personal life was for shit.

Dean had not contacted him in any way after Saturday. He had waited until Wednesday before calling Dean's cell, and even then only limited himself to two calls a day. He had tried to catch Dean after work on Thursday, only to have himself blatantly ignored. And then on Friday after school, he saw Dean's patrol car and purposefully drove 20 miles over the speed limit with the same results.

Fucking shit, he was tired of it.

Saturday, he did nothing, knowing that Dean was at work. He forced himself to accept that he had to back off, leave Dean alone. If he pushed too hard, somehow he knew that Dean would run away even further out of his reach, maybe even out of the country.

And was he the only one who saw the irony in the fact that a vampire was running from a hunter for completely sexual reasons? It made him chuckle a little when he had had a few glasses of whiskey.

Of course, his carefully put-together resolve went to hell only two weeks after that. Sam finally couldn't take the distance anymore and after so many nights and day dreams involving him and Dean, it was a marvel of his own stubborn pride that he had lasted this long. That, and he felt that this childish act of Dean's had gone on long enough. Edward was certainly lucky that Sam could cover up his thoughts; otherwise he'd be suffering just as much, if not more than Sam at this point.

He visited the Cullen house on a Sunday afternoon, when the sky looked swollen with rain and the promise of thunder. Sam hardly saw the point of knocking, a very human courteously, when the vampires in the house could have heard him coming from a mile or more away. He did it anyway, and waited for an answer.

It was Dr. Cullen that opened the door with his wife, Esme, at his side.

"Hello," Sam greeted them both, "I'm Sam Winchester, and I don't think that we've met before,"

"No, but Esme and I have heard a great deal about you from everyone else," Dr. Cullen nodded in return. "My name is Carlisle, and this is my wife, Esme,"

"A pleasure to meet you Mr. Winchester," Esme said with a warm smile.

"Call me Sam," he said smiling back. He liked Dean's 'brother and sister' already. He could feel that they were both good people.

"So, Sam," Carlisle opened the door wider, gesturing him inside, "What brings you here? Nothing the matter, I hope?" He asked the second question with a certain amount of trepidation, and Sam didn't want any of that.

"No, everything's alright, I just wanted to speak to Dean, if he's here…"

"Sam?" A voice called from the top of the stairs.

Sam looked up and found Dean staring down at him in wide-eyed surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," Sam said, deliberating a moment before deciding to be blunt, "You wouldn't speak to me when I tried elsewhere, so I hoped you'd stop running away from me if I came to your house,"

"I wasn't running away-!" Dean started, moving down the stairs slowly.

"Yes you were Dean! After that Saturday, you wouldn't even look at me! Now, will you stop being a baby about this and just tell me why?"Sam moved toward him.

"A _baby_?" Dean stopped in the middle of descending the steps, looking completely thrown for a loop, "I was protecting you!"

"From what, Dean?" Sam raised an eyebrow, staring the vampire down.

"From ME!" Dean shouted angrily, and then looked away abruptly.

"From…?" Sam let out an exasperated breath, "Dean, you didn't hurt me! And I don't exactly remember asking you to stop."

"What do you mean I didn't hurt you? Did you _see_ you after what happened?" Dean cried back, totally serious and convinced that Sam must be out of his mind.

Sam just rolled his eyes. "Dean, you would have known if you had actually hurt me. I can protect myself,"

Dean still looked at Sam as if he were insane. "Yeah, sure…"

At the look on Dean's face, Sam could only laugh. "You really have no idea do you?" Truthfully, Sam was relieved. At least now he knew why Dean was so careful around him, avoiding him at all costs.

Sam walked up to the steps, stopping just a few short of Dean.

"Try and touch me," Sam challenged.

"What?" Dean asked, astounded at this sudden strange request.

"Seriously, if you're so big and tough, you should be able to take me down easily." Sam continued. "But I'm betting you can't,"

Dean's brows furrowed. He was getting annoyed at this new attitude, this teasing, demanding version of Sam. He got that Sam wanted him to see the human was not as delicate as Dean knew he was, but Sam just didn't know what he was getting himself into, what he was asking for.

He sighed, his shoulders sagging as he prepared to walk back up the stairs. "This is ridiculous Sam, you don't get it…"

The last thing Dean heard was an angry grunt and then he was thrown into the wall, _hard_. Harder than a human should have been able to manage. Logic, however, was lost on the vampire as he pushed away from the surface and glared at Sam, his blood pumping a mite faster.

"Don't you run away again, Dean. I get it, I really do: you're scared that you won't be able to control yourself around me, that you'll end up hurting me." Sam shook his head, "The thing is Dean, you really shouldn't underestimate anyone you meet." He said before pushing Dean again.

Dean was prepared for the shove this time, though, and it didn't move him to the wall again, just a few inches back and with just enough force to really _piss him off_. His instincts took control, and before he could stop to think, he shoved Sam back using all his speed and most of his strength.

Sam _flew_ through the air, his body cracking against the wall next to the door with brute force before sliding down to the floor. He landed back on his feet, stepping away with a false expression of calm on his face, leaving behind an indent of his form and a crack on the wall, his body rigidly tense and mind awhirl.

Seeing that his violence didn't invoke the right reaction only spurred Dean forward, ignoring the shouts from somewhere to his right as he charged at Sam again. Sam was ready this time, but he didn't move an inch, ignoring every fighting instinct he had as he waited for Dean to come at him. Barely a second later, Dean's fist caught the side of his face with enough power to knock him _through_ the glass of the front door. He landed on his ass this time, but sprung to his feet quickly before Dean followed through with another blow.

Dean was seeing red. None of his hits had done damage at all. A more primal part of his brain had taken over, killing his sense of intelligent thought beyond ideas of battle and annoyance. Why couldn't he hurt this being, this _human_, when he was so much stronger and faster than Sam? _Sam_… The name echoed in his head, something like cold distant reminder that there was a reason to stop himself…

Sam knew that Dean was struggling internally. He saw the way Dean's eyes practically glowed in the dying light of the day, the shadows becoming more pronounced and sharp on his features, making him look dangerous and lusciously sexy. It was making it hard to concentrate on why he had riled Dean up in the first place.

They exchanged blows, knocking each other back and circling like vultures to try to find weak points in their defenses. It was exhilarating and fun, freeing for both of them to see the more primal, fierce pieces of themselves, opening a new connection between them.

Then, the fight got really interesting.

Sam had finally managed to pin Dean to a tree, securing the vampire with his wrists by his sides and feet on the earthy ground. He was smiling devilishly, heaving breaths at the continuous release of his mental power. Dean writhed against the bonds, glaring, growling, and grumpily at Sam before he seemed to pause to consider his options. Sam was so sure that he had this in the bag, he wasn't even checking Dean's emotional output; otherwise, he might have realized something devious was brewing in Dean's mind.

Without warning, Dean heaved himself forward, but instead of being hindered by the invisible restrains, a second Dean seemed to burst free from his body. The doppelganger lunged at Sam, who was too mystified by the sudden development that he went down under the force of Dean's body. Sam prepared himself to be beaten to a pulp now that he had been captured, but this Dean just held him hostage, grinning down at him fiendishly.

Sam allowed himself a moment to come to terms with what had just happened, looking between the Dean that had him pinned and the Dean still caught against the tree, before he submitted beneath the second Dean and let loose a breathless laugh. He smiled back at the Dean atop him, releasing the real Dean from the tree.

"So that's your power, huh?" He asked once the real Dean had walked up to where he was. "Duplication?"

"Yeah," Dean said, pulling himself back together again before offering a hand to Sam "Didn't think I would have to use it against you," He admitted, smiling sadly.

"I know, I'm just full of surprises," Sam grinned, but his expression softened at Dean's look. "Do ya believe me now? Or do you still think I can't handle you?"

"No one can handle me," Dean automatically joked, smiling genuinely, but then conceded. "Sam, I didn't mean to push you away. I really thought that I hurt you that night. I just thought that by staying away from you…"

"That you would be protecting me. I know, Dean, but I'm not made of glass. I can protect myself; I think that I more than proved that today." Sam pointed out, surveying the damage to the trees and finally looking back at the house, wincing at the state of the front door.

"I say that anyone who can hold his own against Dean for more than five minutes gets a gold star," Alice's lilting voice said. She leapt down from some tall branches, along with Edward, Rosalie, Jasper and Emmet.

"Didn't know you had it in you, Mr. W," Emmet smirked along with Jasper, both of them receiving an eye roll from Rosalie.

"Damn, and I'm really supposed to promote non-violence to my students," Sam smiled at them, mockingly snapping his fingers. "And, outside of school, just call me Sam. It's not like you're not all older than me or anything,"

The conversation flowed easily from then on, stretching out late into the night before Dean and Sam went back to Sam's house to retire. And Sam was convinced that he had never made a better decision than to provoke Dean into a fight in his life when Dean kissed him goodnight.


	7. Chapter 7: Six

**Chapter Six**

"Hiya, Sammy-boy," a voice from behind him said.

Sam spun around on his heel, indenting the soft earth beneath his feet. Yellow eyes, sickening and amused, glowed in the dying light of the evening. Sam immediately strengthened his mental barriers and prepared himself before speaking.

"Azazel," He intoned flatly, "Didn't think I'd see you again. So, no one's managed to burn your ass yet,"

"Oh, cut me to the quick," Azazel scowled mockingly, "Sammy, I thought you cared."

"Believe me, I do. It means I'll be the one to kill you," Sam smiled sharply.

"You will get the chance to soon," Azazel said casually, "Assuming you will be strong enough…"

"What are you saying?" Sam said, tensing all the more.

"That I'm coming to see you, my boy! So roll out the welcome wagon and hit me with your best shot!" Azazel challenged, smiling happily. "I'm sure your friends' lives depend on it…"

"You bastard, no way! I won't let you touch them! No way in hell!" Sam yelled, his voice echoing through the forest. "I will rip you apart!"

"We'll see," Azazel chortled, "I'll be there soon, Samuel, soon…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"NO!" Sam shot upwards from his pillow. His eyes wildly flew from one dark shadowy shape to another. All innocuous items in his bedroom seemed to work together sinisterly to make him feel crowded and claustrophobic as he forced his breathing to slow.

"_Soon, Samuel, soon…"_

The words echoed threateningly in his mind. He was glad Dean had been on call the night before, with the way he had probably been thrashing and yelling in his sleep. Not really something he wanted to explain to his boyfriend, not when their relationship was as precarious as it was. Especially when the dream had been as close to his old, festering wounds from his past…

_He couldn't have…No…_ Sam tried to will away the possibility that Azazel had found him after all this time, that it was impossible that anyone could have penetrated the protective spells and sigils, but the demon's presence was unmistakable; un-reproducible even in his own mind.

He never should have used his real name, he knew, but it was the only way to access his old records without rousing too much suspicion. Even that excuse fell flat, though… it was his own selfish desires that got him in this situation. Sam didn't allow himself to believe for a second that what he had just experienced had been just a paranoid nightmare. Azazel was planning something, and he wanted Sam scared and anticipating danger everywhere he looked… kind of like what he was doing at the moment.

He took a deep breath.

Sam's cell phone rang. He blinked at the bedside table, wondering at the timing of the call, before glancing briefly at the green LED clock. 6:15, only one half hour before the alarm was supposed to go off.

He grabbed the phone after un-setting the alarm and saw from the screen that it was Bobby.

"Hey Bobby," he said tiredly.

"I'm sorry for wakin' you up, son. But, I was checkin' on things in your area and the city closest to you, Seattle, has a lot of missin' persons reported." Bobby said in lieu of greeting. At least he got straight to the point, Sam thought to himself, pulling back the covers and padding barefoot into the kitchen. He was definitely going to need more coffee to get through the day.

"Any patterns?" Sam asked, wondering what kind of monster was in the neighborhood this week.

"No, and that's the thing. There are somewhere around forty or more male and female vics, ages fifteen to twenty-seven at the oldest. All started disappearing in the last forty days or so, all accounts point to them happenin' at night is the only thing I can find in common," Bobby said, shuffling through some paperwork on his desk.

"Rules out werewolf and ghosts, hell, anything I can think of. Most monsters are pretty low scale, what makes you think this is supernatural at all?" Sam looked out his window, seeing the frost cling to the leaves of the tree standing near his home. Autumn was just beginning to end.

"Police have interviewed and investigated every crime syndicate, drug ring, and friggin' pickpocket in the tri-state area, they're even willingly working with the feds on this, and no one has any idea what's goin' on." Bobby sighed.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'll go see what I can do, if there's anything weird going on in Seattle." Sam frowned, feeling a foreboding sense of peril on the horizon in the wake of his dream-warning and Bobby's call. He bid the older hunter good day and was drinking his coffee minutes later, wondering what was to happen next. He felt a call to Dean was in order, considering the resources the vampire had at his disposal.

"Forks Police Department, what is the nature of your call?" Dean answered.

"Pleasure, I think, and it's a real emergency," Sam said, in as serious a voice as he could manage.

"Really now?" Dean purred back, "Sir, I believe that calling the police for such an emergency is highly disrespectful and a great misuse of our protective services."

The vampire's low, gravelly voice sent shivers down Sam's spine, and for a moment, Sam reveled in the feeling it gave him.

"Is that so? Maybe you should come and punish me for such a heinous crime," Sam smiled, but knew he had to get back to the real reason he called sometime.

"Sounds like you're asking for a lot there, sir. You sure you can take it?" Dean smirked, certainly enjoying this new way to start the morning.

"I'd say come over and find out, but I have something else I need you to check out first." Sam sighed, "Look, Bobby called again, said that there's something weird going on in Seattle. Could you look at the reports from the city for me?"

"Yeah, I've been looking into that too… Did he have any idea why all these people were suddenly missing?" Dean asked.

"No, but it has to be something supernaturally related, none of the crime in the area or internationally is responsible. Believe me; Bobby has a way of finding these things out,"

"Yeah… it looks like he missed something, though. There have been a lot of deaths lately, and most of them the same MO. Throats slashed wide open. They're trying to keep it out of the media, but there's a big red flag warning sent out to all departments and stations to keep a look out for the same crime." Dean shook his head and looked sternly at the pictures and matching reports. "I can't believe I didn't make the connection before."

"I can't see how Bobby missed it either." Sam frowned, "It's obviously a vampire attack, right? And it's happening practically in your own back yard. Something you're not telling me?"

"Nothing I can think of- Oh, shit." Dean rubbed a hand over his face, "Victoria…"

"The crazy girlfriend who swore revenge? No wonder this is so over the top," Sam groaned, remembering the conversation he had had with Bella on the whole James debacle.

"Well, since we're pretty sure it's her, you can bet she's coming here next," Dean said, closing the windows on his computer and bringing all his paperwork back to their files. "I'm off duty in ten. I'll go home and tell everyone about what we've found. You should tell Bella if you see her before Edward, I think her dad said something about taking her to school today."

"Yeah, got it. See you after work. I'll call Bobby back and tell him that I've got a handle on it so he doesn't send any other hunters an invite." Sam said, and then hung up after their mutual goodbyes.

Yep. Definitely a day for extra coffee, he thought as he poured another cup before preparing for his day.

_Jane Austen, Fitzgerald, and vampires, oh my_, He shook his head and walked back to his bedroom. _That's what I get for being a hunter and an English teacher, I guess…_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I can't believe they're making me stay here…" Bella sighed.

Sam wanted to sigh with her. It had been a trying day.

After telling the rest of the Cullen's and Bella, Edward had been beside himself with rage and panic. It was a while before the rest of them could convince him that no, he couldn't just take Bella to Alaska or some deserted remote location, because Victoria would obviously stop at nothing to find and kill Bella no matter where they ran. Everyone agreed that staying in Forks, on their own ground; they would have the advantage and be able to keep the vampires out of major human populated areas. The forests and mountains would be their battle ground. Still, nothing they said could keep Edward from panicking like a man possessed, so they had come up with the idea with Bella staying at Sam's home until the night came were they would face the vampire army.

That conversation had gone splendidly.

"Why can't she just stay here? I will protect her." Edward had argued.

"Yes, we all know that you can protect her, Edward, but Sam's a hunter. He can obviously keep her guarded and we can prepare easier without having to worry about her in the house by herself." Alice said.

"But he's human. And I don't have to sleep," Edward pointed out.

"Yeah, but what happens when Miss Clumsy over here accidently cuts herself again?" Rosalie raised her brow. "Her birthday party went badly surprisingly fast after that, if you don't remember."

If Jasper could have blushed, he would have been redder than a tomato. It was a hard truth to face; he couldn't really control himself yet around even the smallest of open wounds. Alice rubbed his lower back, smiling softly as he looked sheepishly to the side.

"Yes, but-" Edward tried to argue further.

"Let me ask you this, Edward," Sam finally interrupted, "Do you not trust me because I'm a hunter, or because you can't read my thoughts?"

The sudden silence while Sam stared piercingly at Edward was tense and hard to endure. "I know how unsettling it must be not to have your powers to rely on, and the fact you haven't known me that long doesn't help, but I'm a hunter. For almost fifteen years, I have been killing monsters a heck of a lot more powerful and dangerous than new-born vampires and protecting people while I'm doing it. If you can't trust me personally, then know that I have never failed my job before," Sam promised, never faltering in his gaze.

"Edward…" Dean said sternly when it looked like his 'nephew' was going to protest more.

"Of course, I could stay with Jacob and his family," Bella suggested causally, trying not to smile, "They said I was always welcome at their reservation. They would protect me."

"No way in hell," was Edward's knee-jerk response, face looking paler than usual.

"Then I guess I'll be staying with Sam," She retorted straight back, shrugging.

Everyone else had to stifle giggles and chuckles at the way Bella had handled that. Edward simply scowled more.

And that was how Bella came to stay at Sam's house for the last three nights. Tomorrow, Edward would lead her away to the mountains while the werewolves and Cullen's protected the town from the invading vampires. Jasper was teaching them all how to fight the new-borns, having experience in dealing with their increase in strength and hostility.

"I wish I wasn't so much trouble for them…" Bella muttered, almost like an afterthought.

"It's not your fault, Bella," Sam reassured her, grasping her shoulder briefly, "Never think that. Edward and the rest of the Cullen's protect you because they love you, and Victoria's just a bitch. If anyone's to blame, it's her."

Bella smiled at that comment, nodding firmly in acknowledgement. "Thank you,"

"Thank you for being my friend." Sam said honestly, "I don't have many of those,"

That made her smile wider, and she embraced Sam in a humungous bear hug that nearly knocked the wind out of Sam. "Neither do I," she confessed softly.

"What about all the werewolves and vampires?" Sam teased lightly, pulling back.

"Well, you're uncomplicated. Thank you for not hating everyone, oh, and not killing my boyfriend," She teased back, laughing.

"No trouble at all," Sam half-smiled, thinking, _You have no idea how complicated I really am…_ And an unshakeable image of Azazel laughing coldly in the front of his mind.


End file.
